Where I was meant to be last week was India. Where I was was London. Bureaucracy gets in the way of productivity in my job occasionally.
On Monday morning I tweeted this:
On Monday afternoon the mischievousness and creativity resulted in bringing a little bit of India to me, namely by having a bit of fun with an old sari printing block I picked up on a previous visit. It’s always good to turn round a situation that’s a bit of an arse!
“I want a little sugar in my bowl
I want a little sweetness down in my soul”
Nina Simone
This week I bought my friend’s share of the flat we’ve co-owned for 11 years and for the first time in my whole life am living alone. I am so happy! I’ve been nesting and unpacking the personal treasures that have been hidden during the years of shared living. I found my Granny’s sugar bowl, complete with integrated tongs in the lid. I tweeted something about them giving me naughty thoughts and from those thoughts came an idea for a triptych of photos. As it is I am not sure they work; the images don’t seem as funny or sexy in reality as they were in my mind, although I can confirm the tongs have a sharp enough bite that they’d be a fun addition to play! My favourite photo actually ended up being one of my legs I shot quickly at the end…
Photo courtesy of Switch Studies
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Machine
She wanted to let the light in…
Reflections on the Male Nude
This post is the first of new ‘series’ that has bugger all to do with being 40 or body positivity, but that’s the problem with F Dot Leonora – her enthusiasm and ‘gentle’ encouragement can get you wrapped up in all sorts of new endeavours. I tweet a lot about hotels, they’ve provided the location for a few of my Sinful Sunday photos and F Dot has used two of my hotel photos to illustrate posts. Every so often I’ll share a little gallery of images and some stories from my travels and if anyone ever wants to use them to illustrate a post, be my guest…
Sleeping With the Books
There’s a Library Hotel in Saigon. Yes, you did read that. A hotel in a library! And a free minibar in every room. This might just be the most perfect concept for a hotel, ever! I stepped into the lobby four days after running a marathon and off the back of a 21 hour journey, muscles screaming with the double fatigue of distance endured, first on my feet and then cramped on a plane. The calming effect of being met by a wall of books was instantaneous.
Of course nothing is quite what it first seems and the free minibar was actually a few soft drinks and one can of beer a day, and I didn’t read anything from the library, travelling as I was with my own little library. But I fell for the marketing and I’m very glad I did. With its comfy sofas, sultry rooftop bar, huge beds, giant shower cubicles, and cheeky alcoves, it would have been the perfect location for a holiday romance or sexual adventure. It was also perfect for rest, recuperation and reflection. It was the start of three weeks just for me, where I can count on one hand the number of conversations I had that extended beyond pleasantries.
I briefly toyed with the idea of setting up a shot of the kind The Other Livvy did such a good job of a few weeks back, but I didn’t really trust the strength of that ladder and the library was off the 24-hour reception. Plus, at the time, my occasional self-portraits only had an audience of one and I couldn’t really be bothered with the effort. Had I know this blog would be born 10 months later I may have tried a little harder. But I quite like these stark shots; naked images of places that are usually peopled can beg your imagination to fill in the missing pieces of a story. What would you have happen on those winding stairs?
We met in a wine bar. The kind that has a lot of unvarnished wood, candles everywhere, and giant olives in tiny bowls. The kind that sits on the fence, wanting to create an illusion of intimacy for couples, but not wanting to lose the after work crowd.
It wasn’t a date. He’s a photographer and his new project has piqued my interest. He likes my blog and wanted to meet me. We were there to talk about working together.
I didn’t want to dress for a date, but I wanted a slight turn of his head, a dip of the eyes. I didn’t want him to imagine fucking me, but I did want him to imagine photographing me. A white shirt, buttoned not quite high enough. Bright lingerie teasing through gauzy material.
The chemistry was good. Chemistry between a photographer and a potential subject, or sexual chemistry? I don’t know. Is it the same thing, or different? “I wish I had my camera,” he said, “I want to photograph you now.”
Then a hand across the table, opening the white shirt a button further. A grainy iPhone shot. A kiss. Plans for more photography.
